


Surfeiting the Appetite

by lilinas



Series: Expectation Fails [22]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BDSM, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom Kurt, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Soulmates, Sub Blaine, You all know the drill by now!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-20 09:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13143561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilinas/pseuds/lilinas
Summary: The wedding is over. They partied the night away. And now after six months of pre-wedding chastity, Blaine's cage comes off.





	1. Whispered Question

**Author's Note:**

> I have the greatest readers in the world. Like, seriously. I can't believe anyone is still reading Glee, never mind so many of you! So this is a little Christmas present from me to you, and the reason I haven't been able to respond to all your comments (but I will soon!). Because for some reason that I personally cannot fathom, a bunch of you want to see Blaine come.
> 
> Six chapters, and I may get them all up today or they may dribble over into tomorrow. (See what I did there? Dribble?)
> 
> Seriously, I never wrote the word "orgasm" so many times in the tags for one story. Enjoy it. It's not happening again! ;)
> 
> And thank you all once again for being insanely amazing and constantly making my life.

“So, husband. How do you want them?”

“You already know. _Husband._ ”

“I want you to say it anyhow.”

“I want them however you want to give them to me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to Sparrow30 for allowing me to outright plagiarize her line! <3

The bed really was round. And seven feet in diameter. With attachment points every five degrees or so around the circle. Which meant Blaine’s body could be bound in any number of positions or stretch in any direction as far as his limbs could reach and still have room left over. For now, Kurt chose the classic spread-eagle, and he’d hummed with excitement over the intricate ratchet system that allowed him to pull Blaine’s arms and legs as wide as he wanted, until there was no stretch left in his muscles and he was completely immobile.

Kurt had stripped him of clothes, cuff, and harness before tying him down, but Blaine could still feel phantom ropes, especially when Kurt ran his fingers over the patterns that twenty-four hours bound had left in his skin. He lay in romantically dim light, naked except for his cage, with a wall of windows exposing him to the lights of New Jersey across the dark swath of the Hudson. He trusted Kurt with everything he had and he knew the hotel prized privacy above all, but just imagining that he might be visible like this to anyone with a decent set of binoculars made him shiver with excitement. Well, he shivered inside. There wasn’t enough give in his bondage to do it the regular way.

The round bed also meant Kurt could approach him from any angle, and now he chose to climb up the bed from the bottom. He’d shed his jacket. His tie hung loose from his collar and his dress shirt was unbuttoned just far enough that the key to Blaine’s cage swung free as he crawled. Blaine thought he’d never looked sexier, or more predatory.

“Are you ready to sing for me?” Kurt asked seductively.

“I’m ready to scream,” Blaine breathed.

Kurt knelt up straight between Blaine’s thighs and lifted the key from around his neck. Blaine’s cock pushed hard against the cage, like it was reaching out for the key or Kurt or both together.

“Remember what I said when I put it on?” Kurt asked.

 _Husband,_ Blaine’s mind said, but emotion, need, relief blocked his throat and he could only nod.

He found the room to moan, though, when Kurt’s warm hand wrapped around the cage and he gently unscrewed the plug.

“Are you dying to be free?” Kurt asked as he slid the plug slowly out of Blaine’s urethra.

The sensation of the plug moving inside his cock made speech impossible, but when Kurt pulled it all the way out Blaine gasped a breath and managed to choke out, “Yes. _Please._ ”

The click of the lock opening was the best sound Blaine had heard since _Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson_ , and his cock began to fill as soon as it had room, pushing the cage into Kurt’s hand and making Kurt laugh with delight. By the time the cage was gone Blaine’s husband had a full, eager erection to wrap his fingers around.

“Oh god, oh Jesus fuck Kurt!” Just the touch of Kurt’s hand after so long brought Blaine to the brink immediately.

“Close your eyes,” Kurt commanded.

Blaine obeyed. The bed shifted under him; he felt something tickle his thighs – the ends of Kurt’s tie, he realized – then a tiny, fluttering, devastating wet warmth on the swollen head of his cock.

“Shit! I’m too close, Kurt. I can’t . . .” Blaine tried to clamp down on the burgeoning orgasm but with his legs bound so wide apart there was nothing to clench – he was helpless, completely at Kurt’s mercy with no way to control his body.

“Shhhh,” Kurt said. “Don’t fight it. Trust me.”

Blaine was nothing if not obedient. He let go. He fell into the glory of being free and hard and unconstrained and in Kurt’s deft hands.

Kurt’s tongue darted here, there and everywhere, in tiny licks that teased Blaine to the edge of eruption over and over again but never quite let him fall. Kurt had said he wanted to worship Blaine’s body and he did, thoroughly, until Blaine was so dizzy with pleasure he had to close his eyes against the spin. He licked and nibbled at Blaine’s nipples for what felt like forever and each pull and tug and sharp nip made Blaine’s cock dance and dribble. He sucked hickeys into Blaine’s neck while Blaine cried out and twisted under the delicious pain. He spread Blaine’s cheeks and rimmed him until Blaine was sobbing and laughing and begging for mercy. And through it all Kurt never neglected Blaine’s cock. It had suffered long and hard for him and now he rewarded it with gentle strokes of fingers or tongue, bringing it oh so close to the release it longed for before moving away to massage Blaine’s balls or bite marks into his thighs.

And Blaine – Blaine silently blessed Kurt, and thanked him, over and over, for the gift of these six months of denial. The incessant repetition of being teased and tormented and brought to the edge then locked back up and left aching for release had finally obliterated the stubborn voice inside him that only wanted to _want_. Tonight, with absolutely everything he had, Blaine wanted to _come_. And the reassuring inevitability of that sweet release freed him to wallow in the sensations Kurt created as he played. He was Kurt’s toy, his submissive, his husband. He’d pushed himself to the limit to fulfill Kurt’s desires and this – this was his well-earned reward.

“I wish you could hear yourself,” Kurt whispered in Blaine’s ear at some point.

Blaine opened his eyes and sought out Kurt’s – they were close and dark and full of happiness.

“Is it . . . what you imagined?”

Kurt smiled. “Better. You should consider yourself lucky that I want to know what you’ll sound like coming, because I could honestly keep you like this forever.”

Blaine’s insides twisted and he felt more warm precome spurt from his cock. “Anything,” he said, because he was drunk on pleasure and love and submission. “Anything you want. Anything.”

“Well obviously,” Kurt said with a smirk. He circled to the bottom of the bed, running a hand along Blaine’s body as he went, then climbed up the bed again and lifted Blaine’s cock to meet his mouth. This time he sank down all the way, in a long and slow slide, and Blaine hoped to hell the hotel was being honest about the soundproofing because nothing could have stifled the shout that burst from his chest when his teased and aching cock was surrounded by the wet heat of Kurt’s mouth and the flicking strokes of his tongue.

Kurt blew him slowly in long strokes, perfectly timed to build Blaine gently toward his long-awaited release. Blaine shuddered under his touch as pleasure built and built, a dozen times he was sure it was going to break and still it swelled, until every cell of his body was on fire and he could hear himself babbling between gasping breaths.

“I love you . . . fuck, god, I love you . . . thank you . . . thank you, thank you, oh god . . .”

And then finally it was _there_ , Kurt’s tongue stroked across Blaine’s slit until the sensation was too intense to be borne and in a sudden rush the orgasm slammed into him like an avalanche, turning everything white, tumbling him ass over elbow as the explosion of pleasure tore through his body. He fought the bonds that held him fast, the instinct to thrust as overwhelming as it was impossible. Kurt drew him deep and swallowed and the fluttering around the head of Blaine’s cock pushed the intensity to an even sharper point; it stabbed deep into Blaine's core as he spasmed six months of denied release down his husband’s hot, wet throat.

When it was over he was left curled up in a ball, walled up in muffling snow, except he was still spread oh-so-tightly on the bed exposed to the wall of windows, exhausted, numb, _relieved_ in a way he’d never experienced before. He wanted to look at Kurt, to see if he’d pleased him, but lifting his head was impossible so he stared at the ceiling until Kurt moved to hover over him. Kurt was smiling, so he must be pleased, Blaine thought dimly. And if Kurt was pleased, it was all worth it.

“Well you were right,” Kurt said.

Blaine raised his eyebrows. It was all he could manage.

“You did scream. I liked it. I want to make you scream some more.”


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is everyone happy now that Blaine got to come? Well it's not over yet . . . ;)

Blaine hadn’t thought anything could be better than his first orgasm in six months. But Kurt was, as usual, continually surprising.  

His husband lounged on the red leather banquette in his jacquard smoking jacket and black silk pajamas, spa slippers on his feet and a martini Blaine had prepared for him in one hand. As he had predicted, he fit right in with the vintage décor of the suite. He looked like a mid-century millionaire enjoying the fruits of his success. Of which naked, kneeling Blaine was definitely one. Blaine watched as Kurt raised the crystal cocktail glass to his lips and let a little of the clear liquid slip down his throat.

“That must feel so good,” Kurt said, smiling at Blaine with an evil twinkle that made Blaine’s toes curl even more than being allowed, for the first time in years and years, to stroke himself to orgasm.

It did feel good. It felt incredible. Just being allowed to touch himself was a rare treat – to wrap his fingers around his own hard dick and stroke in the exact perfect way that only he knew. But having permission to actually bring himself to orgasm? To take control of his own body from the first touches bringing his erection back to life until he spilled? To know that as he came he would be able to ease himself through it in just the right way to drag every ounce of pleasure out of his eager body? The very idea brought tears to his eyes and he moaned and fucked up into his fist.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kurt said. “How long has it been since you made yourself come?”

“Well, sometimes you let me hump things.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Blaine shook his head. “I’m not sure. Forever. Back in the beginning, I think, right after we met.”

“That’s a long time,” Kurt said, entirely unnecessarily. He took another sip and Blaine’s eyes followed the glass, riveted on the drink tipping into Kurt’s mouth. “Keep stroking.”

Blaine wasn’t completely in control, of course. There were two rules to Kurt’s latest gift. He wasn't allowed to stop stroking until he came. And he wasn’t allowed to come until Kurt's glass was empty. Blaine hadn’t thought that would be a problem. He’d thought the first orgasm had wrung him out so completely that even getting an erection would have been a challenge. Turns out having his dominant give him permission to make himself come after more years that Blaine wanted to count right now was about as powerful an aphrodisiac as Blaine had ever encountered. And of course Kurt was savoring the moment, and his drink, and Blaine’s increasing desperation.

The green of the olive, still immersed in gin, mocked him.

“Tell me how it feels,” Kurt commanded.

“Amazing,” Blaine said without hesitation. “Fuck, it’s incredible. I’m so close already.” He slowed his hand to a crawl, just stroking the shaft, his fist so loose he could barely feel it.

“Well enjoy it. Because it’s probably the last time I’ll ever let you do it.”

Blaine’s cock surged and precome flowed over his fingers. “Oh god. That’s not helping me hold back.”

“You’d better find a way. I’m not even halfway through with this drink.”

It was so different – how could it be so different to touch himself? He squeezed gently and his cock swelled against his hand. Even after years there was such a familiarity to it. Like meeting an old, old friend and slipping into easy companionship once again. The thought made Blaine smile.

“Speed it up,” Kurt ordered. “I don’t think you’re nearly as close as you pretend you are.”

It was different for other reasons too. The first orgasm had been six months of acute desire exploding out of control. It had been more need than pleasure, and Blaine had been lost in it, but this time he was present, watching Kurt sip his drink, tiny bit by tiny bit, counting down the moments until he could make himself come. He could enjoy the shape of Kurt’s lips as they molded to the glass, the glimpse of his tongue and the light in his blue eyes as he watched Blaine perform. He could savor each glide of his fingers, choose when to rub his frenulum or tease around his slit, decide for himself how close to dance to the edge of release and how long to let himself dangle there before easing back. And, strangely, knowing that it was just this once, and that forever after his pleasure would be back where it belonged in Kurt’s hands, that was the thing that allowed Blaine to let go completely and just enjoy the rare sensation of pleasuring himself.

“That’s better,” Kurt crooned. He slid one foot between Blaine’s legs and rubbed it against his balls. “These are nice and tight again just like I like them.”

Blaine hummed and rocked, riding Kurt’s shoe until the added stimulation became too much. “Close,” he warned.

“Too bad. I’m enjoying this.” Kurt pushed his foot up a little harder, just enough to hurt, and Blaine whined and clenched because he wanted to stay here, right here, riding the edge until Kurt drank that last drop and set him free. And really, it wasn’t as if he had a choice in the matter.

“Keep that hand moving,” Kurt ordered.

Blaine stroked and tried to count his breaths – inhale two-three-four, exhale – and watched Kurt raise his cocktail glass and tilt the last sip into his mouth. He stroked and whined as Kurt held the liquor, savoring it and Blaine’s distress. Finally, finally he swallowed and smiled at Blaine.

“Come.”

It only took a few more strokes, a thumb sweeping over his slit, the push of Kurt’s shoe, and Blaine fell into his second orgasm with a gasp this time instead of a scream. And oh, it was gorgeous, gentler than the first time, but to hold himself, to squeeze just as he liked and stop stroking at the exact right moment, while his release pulsed hot over his fingers and pleasure twisted his balls . . . Blaine closed his eyes and moaned in soft ecstasy as he rode the orgasm to a long, slow, shuddering finish.

When he looked up at last, Kurt was sucking the olive off his swizzle stick. “So the first two were for you,” he said, flourishing the stick, “and the next ones are for me.”

Blaine was still gasping, watching his semen drip from his hand onto the floor. “I don’t . . . know if I can again . . .”

“As if that’s going to stop me.” Kurt gave Blaine’s balls another little nudge then crossed his legs delicately. “But first you’d better clean up your mess. I think that’s well beyond the scope of housekeeping.”


	4. Three

The ceiling above the bed had a hidden attachment point on an electric winch, and thank god, really, because Blaine was pretty sure the chain was the only thing holding him up at the moment.

“See, and you thought you couldn’t get hard again,” Kurt crooned at him, like his dick was a cute little puppy that had just learned to roll over.

The chain was tight enough that Blaine’s knees barely brushed the coverlet and the spreader bar fastened just above them kept his legs spread wide, his balls swinging free between them. Well, they _had_ been swinging free, until Kurt and his crop had started in on them. Now they hugged his body, trying to escape the most intense beating Kurt had ever given them. They burned with pain; Blaine couldn’t stop whimpering even as Kurt paused to give him a break. But his dick was hard. It had hurt this time to get it up, but Kurt had been implacable and Blaine was nothing if not obedient. Also, apparently, having his balls thrashed turned him on. Even after two orgasms. Which was not necessarily information Blaine wanted Kurt to have.

“I’m so . . . sorry I . . . under . . . under . . .” Blaine panted. Sweat ran down his temple and he turned his face into his arm to try to wipe it away.

“Underestimated me?” Kurt asked sweetly. “That’s okay honey.” He stroked the tongue of the crop up and down Blaine’s dick, making Blaine whine. “I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me.”

“Oh please . . .”

“Shhhhh. I’m not going to hurt your balls anymore.”

“Thank you . . .”

“We’re going to see if I can beat an orgasm out of this dick.”

“Oh fuck Kurt . . .”

Kurt laughed, which didn’t help Blaine’s state of mind at all. He flicked the tongue of the crop playfully against the head of Blaine’s cock once, twice, then wound up and whipped him in earnest. The transition from teasing to agony was abrupt and unexpected and Blaine cried out as pain tore through his cock.

“Oh, come on sweetie,” Kurt said in a voice that was all gentle solicitude. “I’ve been giving and giving tonight. Now it’s time for me . . . to . . . take.” He punctuated each word with a solid smack on Blaine’s cock head.

Having his cock whipped was always devastatingly intimate for Blaine. The stimulation, and the knowledge that he suffered for Kurt’s pleasure, pushed him toward orgasm but the brutal, mind-numbing pain always kept him from falling over the edge of release. After so many years of tormenting him, Kurt knew exactly how to take advantage of that to work Blaine up until his body couldn't tell pleasure from pain, or desire from fear. Kurt let the crop fall over and over, flat on Blaine’s glans, across his frenulum, down at his root where his balls cringed up against his body. Blaine sobbed and twisted against the ropes and begged for mercy but mercy didn’t seem to be in Kurt’s vocabulary tonight.

“I can’t . . . I can’t . . . I want to, please . . . it’s too much, help me, please . . .”

The crop paused, mercifully, and Blaine hung from the ceiling and gasped air into his lungs.

“Help you? How?” Kurt asked. There was an edge in his voice that warned Blaine to tread carefully, but Blaine was too far gone for subtlety.

“Please just touch me! I can come, I promise, but it hurts so much, please Kurt . . .”

Blaine’s cock danced its agreement, dripping freely despite the throbbing pain.

“Touch you?” Kurt scoffed. “This cock had been stroked all night!” He whipped the crop down in emphasis, and Blaine groaned and curled inward in a vain attempt to protect himself. “I told you, I’m beating this one out of you.”

It was hard to see, with sweat and submissive fog in his eyes, but Blaine blinked and forced himself to focus on Kurt’s face. “Please. I want to. I _can’t_.”

Kurt stepped back and surveyed his trembling, sweating husband. If anything in this world could have made Blaine come untouched, Kurt’s imperious yet dismissive expression would have done it. But he’d already come twice, and despite his protests, he honestly wasn’t sure he could come again even with help. All he could do was hang and try to breathe through the burning ache in his genitals.

“Well I suppose, since it’s our wedding night.”

“Please. I want to be good for you. I just need . . . help.”

Kurt turned and fished in their gear bag. When he came back to the bed relief flooded Blaine’s body and he moaned gratefully. Kurt held the bullet vibe, the one on a strap that could be fixed around his cock. It had speeds from teasing to savage and Blaine knew that in the right place on the right setting it could bring him to orgasm in moments, despite his pain and his cock’s previous exertions.

“Thank you. Oh fuck, I’ll come for you I promise, Kurt . . .”

Kurt didn’t respond. Still holding the crop, he strapped the vibe around Blaine’s straining cock exactly – Blaine sighed with relief – against his frenulum. The he picked up the remote and switched it on . . . to the lowest setting. It buzzed ever so gently and Blaine’s head fell forward in defeat.

“Oh . . . more . . . I need more . . .”

“So greedy tonight. What am I going to do with you?” Kurt grinned that wicked smirk that haunted all of Blaine’s most depraved dreams. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll turn it up, but you pay for each setting.” He brandished the crop. “Five strokes, I think,” he said, teasing the corner of the tongue into Blaine’s slit. “Well? What do you want me to do?”

Blaine’s brain frantically searched for a way out, but there was none, he knew that, as he’d always known. Kurt knew him too well, inside and out. “Turn it up. Please,” Blaine breathed.

“And?”

Blaine groaned. “And please whip my cock,” he said and hot desire stabbed his belly as he voiced it. Because Kurt _knew_.

It took four setting increases before Blaine finally came. Each accompanied by five brutal strokes of the crop, right across his slit, his cries of pain becoming hoarser as the vibe and the punishment pushed him closer to the edge. When he fell at last there was as much pain in it as pleasure, his balls screamed right along with him and though the intensity felt like it was pulling him apart, his tortured cock only managed a tiny dribble of semen that ran tickling down his shaft as he hung limp from the ceiling chain.

“That was fantastic,” Kurt said, and Blaine wished he had the strength to lift his head because he needed to know that Kurt was pleased with him.

“No more,” he begged, even as aftershocks that were much too much still twisted through his body. “Please. Please no more.”

The bed moved and Kurt was behind him, wrapping arms around Blaine’s sweaty torso and pressing his silk-covered erection against Blaine’s sore ass. “What?! You’ve only come three times. You have to have at least one more in there.”

“I don’t. I swear Kurt, please. I just . . . I can’t.”

“That’s what you said before, but look.” Kurt ran a finger up Blaine’s shaft, through the come there, and Blaine cried out again. But then Kurt’s come-covered finger pressed into Blaine’s mouth and he didn’t have any more room to complain.

“The thing is, sweetie,” Kurt said, “you’ve come three times now and I haven’t even come once. It’s my wedding night too, after all. I don’t think it’s too much to expect my new husband to come with me, while I’m fucking him for our very first married time, do you?”

Blaine sucked harder at Kurt’s finger, but Kurt pulled it away. “Well? What do you have to say to me Blaine?”

“Please . . .” Blaine gave it one last try.

“Please?”

Blaine’s head fell back in defeat, dropping onto Kurt’s shoulder. “Please fuck me and make me come again.” His poor, exhausted dick gave a painful throb as he said it. Of course.

“That’s my good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for today, folks. We'll finish torturing Blaine tomorrow . . .


	5. Four

He was exhausted, trembling, limp against the cushioned bench he was draped over. Everything hurt, and he was terrified Kurt would make good on his promise to force him to come a fourth time. But none of that mattered anymore. It had faded into the background, demoted to vaguely annoying, like a buzzing gnat.

Kurt was fucking him. Kurt’s dick was inside him, thrusting slowly in and out, enjoying his body, and Kurt’s dick made everything right.

Against all odds, Blaine giggled.

“Oh god,” Kurt groaned, “are you hysterical? Did I push you too hard?”

“You have a magic dick.”

Kurt thrust deep then folded himself down over Blaine’s body. “Oh crap. You _are_ hysterical.”

“No. I’m happy,” Blaine said.

“How happy?” Kurt reached under the bench and wrapped his hand around Blaine’s limp dick. He squeezed ever so gently but Blaine was pretty sure it couldn’t have hurt more if Kurt had taken a sledgehammer to his balls. He wanted to flinch away but his body was too spent to move at all.

“Fuck, that hurts. It hurts so much.”

“Too much?” Kurt’s breath tickled his ear.

“Everything’s too much with you,” Blaine said, and it sounded like a prayer.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Blaine did. He did. He _did_.

He didn’t.

“Never.”

Kurt sucked at Blaine’s earlobe. How that tiny sensation, in the midst of all the overwhelming clamor from his body, could make Blaine shiver, he had no idea.

“You’re probably going to regret that,” Kurt said. Blaine could hear the arousal in his voice.

“I’m counting on it,” Blaine replied.

Kurt pushed himself upright again, his hand left Blaine’s dick but it came back right away, covered in slippery lube. “That sounds like a challenge,” Kurt said. “You know what a challenge like that does to me.”

Blaine knew.

Then Kurt was fucking him in earnest.

The bench was designed to hold his ass at the perfect height while exposing all of his delicate parts to Kurt’s demanding fingers. Kurt had positioned it in front of the wall of windows, like a display, and set it at an angle that made sure Blaine’s prostate got the exact perfect stimulation with every stroke. Each slam inward pushed the air from Blaine’s chest in a grunting moan. He was so close to the glass that all he could see was the dark night outside. It made him feel like he was flying through the air above the river as Kurt took him.

“God, you feel amazing. I could fuck you forever.”

Kurt’s hand stroked his oversensitive cock and it hurt too much – he was never going to be able to come – but that suddenly didn’t matter in the least. All that mattered was that he was here in Kurt’s hands, giving his husband pleasure at last. And when his brain let go of that last little grip on _impossible_ his cock began to stir.

“Well look at that,” Kurt growled between thrusts. “I guess I do have a magic dick.”

Blaine couldn’t respond. The pain of the stretch as his cock filled stole all his breath away and he could only hold on to the legs of the bench and endure.

Kurt was relentless, of course he was, and he carried Blaine away on waves of sensation that eventually ceased to have any relationship to pedestrian ideas like _pain_ or _pleasure_. There was only _being_ , in any way Kurt wanted, for as long as Kurt wanted. Sounds were made and tears fell but none of it meant anything in relation to anything else, except Blaine’s body over a bench, serving his gorgeous husband. Kurt’s thrusts came faster, his hand dealt fire, and his cock unapologetically took what belonged to it.

“God I love you . . . you’re incredible . . . so beautiful . . . I’m almost there . . . come with me Blaine . . .”

Blaine was pretty sure he screamed again. Someone definitely did, and it didn't sound like Kurt. His body convulsed as everything he’d been forced to feel from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet condensed in his balls and pushed out his cock in one agonizing surge, and at the same exact moment Kurt sank home and froze, folding himself down over Blaine’s body again and holding him tight as he poured out his own release at last.

“No, no, nononono . . .” Blaine heard himself chanting when the ringing in his head finally began to fade.

“Shhhhh.” Kurt was still lying on him, pressing him into the bench. “No more, sweetie. You were amazing. Oh, fuck Blaine. I can’t even tell you.”

“No . . . no . . .” Blaine didn’t mean to say no. He meant to say _ohgodfuckdon’tletgoofmeorImaydie_ . . . but his mouth hadn’t caught up with his brain yet.

“Shhhh,” Kurt said again. “Look.” He held his hand up in front of Blaine’s face, the hand that had forced the final orgasm out of his dick. It gleamed with lube, but nothing else. “I drained you dry.”

“Don’t let go . . .” Blaine’s mouth managed.

“Never. Never ever ever.”


	6. The Light of Day

Blaine was floating. Literally, for once. The hammered copper tub was so huge that Kurt had to hold him down with an arm around his waist to keep him submerged, pulling their bodies together. The water was steaming and almost too hot, just the way Blaine liked it. His head was pillowed on Kurt’s shoulder and water lapped at his chin and his fingers entwined with his husband’s, their rings clicking together every so often.

“You smell nice,” Blaine whispered, his voice raspy in his abused throat.

“That’s the bath oil, silly. I smell like sex, just like you do.”

Kurt’s hand left his, and Blaine whined, but then it reappeared again holding a silver goblet. A red and yellow striped bendy straw stuck out of the top.

“Oh,” Blaine said. “They really do think of everything.”

Kurt laughed. It made his chest bounce under Blaine. “All the gear we just used and it’s the bendy straw that impresses you?”

“Little things are –” Blaine paused to take a sip. Sweet, cold juice slipped easily down his burning throat. “– easy to overlook. S’good. What is it?” 

“Lychee. They left us a pitcher in the mini-fridge.”

“I like it.” He took another sip, relishing the flavor.

“How do you feel?” Kurt asked as he set the goblet on the bath-side table.

“Perfect.”

“Silly. I mean besides that.”

Blaine managed to scootch around until he could crane his neck and see Kurt’s face. Blue eyes full of doubt watched him too intently for such a soft and misty moment. “Exhausted,” he said. “Sore.”

“Not as sore as you’re going to be tomorrow.”

“Safe,” Blaine went on. “Content.” He turned even farther, so that Kurt could see him smile. “Married.”

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, then his eyes widened, drawn to the window. “Look!” he exclaimed.

Blaine was only too happy to turn and settle back on Kurt’s chest. But the view out the window made him gasp as well.

They were facing west, but the first light of the sun rising behind the hotel cast beams past their window that broke against the buildings across the river and scattered rainbows over the dark water of the Hudson.

“It’s morning,” Blaine said.

“You survived our wedding night.” Kurt brought back the goblet and Blaine obediently took another sip. “Now you can sleep all day, then you’re getting a massage and then I’m taking you to the hotel restaurant for dinner. It’s five stars.”

“Hmmm,” Blaine said, snuggling against Kurt’s chest and making water splash around the rim of the tub. He had half a mind to just fall asleep here, and let Kurt carry him to bed later. He was sure Kurt was up to the job.

“And no more cage for at least another half a year. That’s a promise. I’ve missed that sound you make when you come.”

Kurt was teasing, but Blaine was too tired to take the bait. He fished under the water for Kurt’s free hand and twined their fingers together properly again.

“You were so perfect,” Kurt said. “You took my breath away. You always do.”

Blaine smiled and sighed. “No more talking. Sleep.”

“Was I too –?”

“Kurt. I’m perfect. I’m married. I had four orgasms. Sleep.”

Kurt kissed the top of Blaine’s head so gently, as if even that might hurt him. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of everything. I love you so much. Sleep.”

Because he was obedient, Blaine rested his head back on Kurt’s shoulder and watched the light from the rising sun push the shadows of Hoboken farther and farther away, until his eyes fell closed and he floated away in his husband’s strong arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, you guys! Happy Holidays to you all. You are the best. And now if nobody minds I'm not going to write anything more than comment replies for the next month. <33


End file.
